C o n n e c t i o n
by Twiggy Morrison
Summary: Three messiahs, three distinct personalities, one is brought from the dead, another has lived a life of solitude and yet another is nothing special at all until tragedy strikes and they are thrown together in a whirlwind of love, lies, and murder.
1. Whom the Bell Tolls

_**Chapter 1: Whom the Bell Tolls**_

"_Take this kiss upon the brow!_

_ And, in parting from you now,_

_ Thus much let me avow…_

_ Is all that we see or seem_

_ But a dream within a dream?" Edgar Allan Poe_

When he opened his eyes, it was dark.

The wooly sky blue blanket was scratching at his ankles and he abruptly tossed it off. He looked around blindly, breathing rapid and drastic as he reached out a hand and formed a fist. His lean, sturdy fingers clenching and unclenching, tendons and ligaments flexing underneath a thin layer of flesh. He reached up pressing it against something lukewarm and soft; he could make out every singular beat of his heart. His palm moved over his slender neck, up his jaw, over his lips, along the smooth plane of his nose before coming to a stop just below his left eye socket.

He smiled and even though it hurt like hell, even though he could not remember the last time he did so, he smiled. He had skin, he had bones, he had blood, he had a pulse, and a heart that beat a steady rhythm in his chest.

He was alive.

He heard the faint click of a door being opened and the rustle of fabric as someone – or something – stepped inside. Suddenly, the room was smothered in a surreal golden glow and the young man was temporarily blinded by the abrupt change. After a few seconds of his eyes twitching, blinking, he grew accustomed to the light and was able to make out just where he was. He was lying on a bed, which was blue, in a room, that was blue, and in the epicenter of the aqua den was a woman just as tall as he was, or that he thought he was… before. The woman was in her mid to late twenties. Her hair was a flaxen blonde color and was impeccably neat, but her eyes are what stood out the most. They were hauntingly familiar, and burned with a faint, peculiar glow as if there was some kind of fire burning beneath those liquid gold irises.

"E- Elizabeth?" He asked his voice bubbling up his throat like toxin, coming out in a rough rasp. The blonde women gazed down at him neither confirming nor denying his ragged proclamation. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the small bed. A ghost of a smile flashed across the woman's face.

"You seem to be doing well; my master will be most pleased." She said more of a mental note to herself then to the young man who was still sitting on the mattress. He opened his mouth, and then closed it the gerbil in his mind ferreting out details of people he met, subtexts of word meanings. Finally his trusty mind procured the image of a balding head, hooked nose, and wrinkled features, a man who was more bird-like then human.

"He's still alive?" The young man asked, the woman's smile was a little deeper now.

"The occupants of the Velvet Room do not age. Not even our masters." She stated placidly, "Besides it has only been two years from your last…meeting. That being said you may want to come with me, my master has something you may find of interest." He scowled but nodded anyway.

The floor lurched beneath him as he stood; his knees buckling beneath him like a new born colt. He lurched to the left and connected with her shoulder.

He didn't even see her move.

She looped her arm around his middle and locked a grip on his arm pulling it over her shoulder and offering him a quiet smile. The young man made a strangled noise of thanks before opening his mouth.

"Just where are we?" He asked as they exited the room and entered, what seemed to be a very large, very blue foyer, just a shade darker then the bedroom he had just awoken in. The flaxen haired woman flicked her gaze towards one of the doors before fixing her peculiar set of eyes on him. She walked over to the door before reaching out her free hand.

"Velvet Manor, of course." She exclaimed coolly as though it was the it was the most rational thing in the world, she opened the door and tugged him inside before setting him carefully on a high backed chair. He thanked her again and looked at the old, withered, white haired man sitting across from him. The room was a deep midnight blue, as dark a blue as the chair he was currently sitting in, but the chair that the old man was sitting in was, by some divine chance. Black. Not blue. The ancient man peered at the younger man - or through him more or less.

"Igor." The man rasped before pausing to clear some of the rust from his throat. "It's been awhile." The older man smiled exposing a row of razor sharp teeth.

"Indeed it has," Igor replied bowing his head just slightly, a wrinkled hand grazed over the arm of the black chair, grasping what seemed to be an equally black bond book. "It truly is splendid to see you up and about after… your rest." The young man cocked his head to the side, unsure of what to say in return.

"Thank you." He decided to say, and the other man's smile widened if it was possible. A small whirring sound filled his ears and he looked up spying a rather large clock hanging from the rafter.

"Awakens some old memories does it not?" Igor asked, beady black eyes never leaving the younger man's face. When he nodded Igor placed the book in front of him, a growl worked its way up his throat and the woman, who had been completely stoic up to now, glanced over at him. He could have sworn he heard Igor chuckle. "Deep breaths m' boy. It is a _newer _contract. Not that old faulty one." The blue clad woman's gaze returned to her feet. "Your resurrection ensured the need for one."

"W-why am I alive." The younger man asked softly his voice struggling to obtain its normal pitch. The blonde woman looked up again, her eyes piercing through the man in the blue seat. Igor chuckled.

"Because, your world is in a dire need for old heroes. Besides that, you have always had more _direction_ then our former guests." The woman made a small noise in her throat; the young man looked at her. She ducked her head again and peered down at her feet. Igor just waved a white gloved hand towards his guest. "Yes, _Elizabeth_ certainly seemed to know who she was dealing with." The noise came again and Igor's cold, obsidian eyes sparkled just slightly. The young man sighed under his breath; he had no time to watch Igor play the sadist.

"While that is great to know, I would really like to be going now." The rust in his voice was gone and a layer of terse control overcame his tone. The woman's head shoot up and her eyes widened. Igor turned back to his assistant.

"I did tell you he would make a quick recovery, did I not." The woman nodded, the old man turned back to his guest, the predatory smile never leaving his face, even as he handed the young man the contract and the sound of rustling paper was the only sound that circulated through the large, blue room.

After several seconds the guest shut the folder, arching a dark eyebrow.

"What's the catch?"

"There would never be a catch. I am honest about all my dealings." Igor replied, the grin fading slightly.

"But there's a deadline isn't there, there was a deadline before, I'm assuming there is one now."

"Around seven months." The fair haired woman said, causing both men to look at her. "Or more, it is all up to the path you choose to follow." Igor's mouth formed a tight line.

"Margaret is correct. Your 'deadline' is in seven months - one for each trumpet." Igor explained, he shot a glare towards the woman. "And now that you know too much, I strongly suggest that you sign that contract, your journey is going to start soon." The old man looked up at the slowly ticking clock, "Very soon so," He handed the young man a spare pen. "I dare say this will not be the last time we meet." The other man nodded and took the pen and signed on the doted line, before handing it back to its owner. Igor nodded and turned back to his assistant.

"You will see him off won't you Margaret?" The woman stepped up to the guest.

"Shall we take our leave?" She asked softly, the young man looked up and nodded, and with those final words they vanished.


	2. Memories

_**Chapter 2: Memories**_

"_I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are.__" J.D Salinger _

Crickets chirped senselessly in the moist, damp grass as if to warn the inhabitants of a nearby apartment complex that a pair of strangers were coming. Or _stranger_, the blue haired man looked over his shoulder; he had asked Igor's assistant if he could make a diversion from their little trek to…wherever and surprisingly she had agreed.

He took a deep breath as he stood beside a large oak tree, the icy cool air sliding down his larynx like sweet, sweet tonic. The blonde stared at him as he took deep gulps of the cool, smog infested air. The blunette reached up and hoisted himself onto one of the lower limbs. He looked down at her, his gray eyes still as blank as ever.

"What" He ground out, it wasn't that he didn't like being looked at, and it was just that her eyes were just a little too...intense.

"I do not understand, is it not customary to use a door?" She asked her golden eyes studying the flex and pull of his skin as he lifted himself onto another branch.

"I have someone I need to talk to." He mumbled, pausing only a moment to flex his fingers before starting his climb again.

"Would it not be easier to use the door? They may believe you're a thief if you go through the window." She stated matter-of-factly, the young man looked down at her, totally unsure of how to place the thoughts running through his mind -most of which revolved around telling her to fuck off. He grunted and shimmed further up the tree, from what he remembered about their long talks of the future, she was going to be renting an apartment in Iwatodai, so they wouldn't have to "sneak around as much" the next year.

He reached the middle of the tree when he saw it, pink curtains floating out into the mild summer breeze. Hands reached for a ledge and the young man's fingers dug into the cool concrete, he pulled himself up and over. His tail bone connected with the soft, light colored carpet. He stood up, brushing his bark covered hands on the shirt he was wearing. Blue-grey eyes surveyed the dimly lit room; a straight nose picked up the airy fragrance of clean sheets and polished wood. A soft sigh echoed off the walls and reached the young man's ears he jumped slightly his eyes coming to rest on the small lump buried beneath the sheets on the nearby bed.

The blunette approached it cautiously, his eyes sliding over the pale face he had studied so many times before, his breath catching slightly as he reached out a hand, his rough calloused fingers tracing lightly, almost tenderly over the soft familiar flesh.

The lump mumbled something incoherent as his hand slide over her jaw his eyes fixated on a pair of pink lips that he remembered all to well. His thumb traced over a high cheekbone and her face twitched just slightly.

"Minato" She breathed and he felt a smile tug at his own lips. She was thinking about him, she was dreaming about him, she _remembered_ him.

If she was awake he would have kissed her, right on the mouth and everything, even if she would have slapped him and asked just what the hell he was thinking, he would have done it. But she was asleep and that, unfortunately, changed things, so instead he pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving back toward the window.

"See you around." He murmured before he left out the window; camouflaged by the inky stillness of the night.

When he had managed to climb down the tree; the blonde was waiting for him. She studied his hazy expression with a vague disinterest before taking out a silver pocket watch from the folds of her dress. The time read half past eleven. She turned her gaze towards the young man.

"May we go?" The word now was left unspoken but it hung there none the less, he watched as her eyes flicked towards the watch before turning into something slightly more urgent. "You need to be taken to the safe zone before midnight." Minato nodded, his mind suddenly clear from whatever thought it had been thinking.

The rest of the way was traveled in silence, until they got to a street corner seven blocks from were they had made their stop. The blue clad woman shut her eyes the silver watch making yet another reappearance. She clicked the small silver knob on top of the object. The area beside the curb shimmered and rippled before, out of the navy blue sky, came a navy blue limousine.

The young man felt his jaw drop and the woman opened her eyes, letting out a small sigh of relief. She turned her head towards the awestruck man.

"Into the car please." He flashed her a skeptical look.

"You're joking right?"

"Yes, my orders are to see you off as safely and quickly as possible." She explained slowly, as if he was somehow deaf, blind, and mute.

"It's going to be blue on the inside too isn't it?" He asked his mouth settling into a firm line. The woman's lips twisted into a wry smile.

"Undoubtedly."

The young man groaned but ducked inside anyway, completely unsurprised to see that Margaret was right.

It was blue.

Margaret sat down beside him, legs primly crossed at the ankles. She watched as he ran a hand over his face.

"Jesus."

"I do not believe an ethereal being has anything to do with this."

"You can say that again." The blonde opened her mouth. "Not _literally_ god." The smile twitched at her features that didn't go unnoticed, "Where is this safe house anyway?"

"Somewhere safe." She answered cryptically. He grimaced raising his thumb and forefinger to rub the bridge off his nose.

"This is going to be a long ride."


	3. Nightmares

_**Chapter 3: Nightmares**_

'_Give them pleasure - the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare' Alfred Hitchcock_

Silver eyes snapped open, and his head shot off the pillow it had been resting on, he glanced around before passing a shaky hand over his face. He hadn't been able to get a full nights sleep for the past week, the fog, the addition of Kanji Tatsumi to his investigation team, and the murders (_especially the murders),_ still weighed heavy on his mind. It was like a domino effect, first that female newscaster, then Saki Konishi, and now his former teacher…. Not that that was a bad thing. He massaged his temples, add to that all the strain over upcoming exams and the semi finals of soccer, plus he had to admit he was still anxious...

A rapid knocking came from his door before it opened revealing the tiny silhouette of a tiny, little, girl.

"Big bro are you okay?" She asked her small feet making a soft, nervous, patter against the wood floor. She reached the bed, watching her older cousins head bob in the dim light before she felt him pick her up and place her beside him. "Did you have another nightmare?" She whispered, he glanced at her, letting out a soft laugh, his hand going up to ruffle his own hair.

"No Nanako, I'm fine." He said his gray eyes scanning the room "Where's your dad?"

"At work" He looked at the digital numbers on his alarm clock, digits winking in and out of being, the little red numbers read four o' clock. He moaned and Nanako hugged the small brown teddy bear she had brought with her. The four year old studied the synthetic fur before she sucked in a tiny breath. "You were talking while you were sleeping," she mumbled.

"Really?" The tiny girl nodded gnawing at her bottom lip, he looked at her again, "Are you sure it wasn't you?" She glared at him with sleepy brown eyes, he chuckled as he got up off the bed, "C'mon lets get some milk."

It was fifteen minutes later since he had woke up, and even though he smiled as Nanako told him about her _'Newest, bestest, friend_,' he still could not shake the feeling that something was going to happen, something sinister, something _odd._

"Souji?" Nanako asked, he looked up and she pointed a tiny, accusing, finger at his glass, which was still half full. "You didn't drink your milk."

His eyes slipped to the clear glass. Souji lifted it up and took a sip so as to humor the child. Another bout of silence followed as he let himself sink back into his thought. The silver headed boy nearly fell out of his chair when her tiny voice resonated from the modest living room.

"Whose Izagni?" Nanako asked strenuously stressing each syllable.

"Who?"

"Izani." She said quickly, her child temper rising.

"Izani?"

"Yes." She paused a moment, "You were saying that word a lot in your sleep."

"Oh you mean Izanagi."

"Yeah," she sighed a little old lady sigh and Souji felt his lips twist into a small smile.

"You never heard the story?" He questioned, his silver eyes smiling as she huffed and stared at him.

"Does Sesame Boulevard cover it?" She asked bluntly, Souji had to choke back a laugh, Dojima really never stressed how grumpy she could be when she was woken up.

"No I don't think it does." He replied, her jaw dropped slightly and he laughed, "Well do you want to hear the story or not?" The child put a finger to her chin as though really contemplating whether she really should or not, finally after talking it over with her stuffed bear,(who was ironically named bear), looked up at her much older much wiser cousin. She nodded. "Erm…well.." In truth he hadn't expected her to _actually _want to hear it but then again when he compared it to fighting monsters, and going through television screens to destroy said monsters, telling an old ghost story seemed pretty damn mild. "Well…uhm, there was this guy and he loved a very young, very pretty woman very much."

"That's not how you start a story big bro." She interrupted softly, " You are supposed to start a story with once upon a time."

It took every ounce of his self control not to roll his eyes.

"Okay, I'll start over then." He let out a small sigh before clearing his throat. " Once upon a time, there was a man."

"Was his name Izanagi?"

"Can I tell the story?" She nodded and he continued, "A man named Izanagi." He watched slightly amused as she high fived the teddy bear she had propped against the fruit bowl before she turned back to her cousin. "He fell in love with a woman, very beautiful, who was named Izanami, and they lived in harmony for a few years."

"Like you and Yukiko?"

"No," he replied bluntly, "Not like me and her at all. Love is…well, fickle I guess."

"But you're dating her."

"Yes."

"So don't yo-"

"No." Nanako looked down at the table, then at her bear, and then finally back to her cousin.

"Big Bro what does fickle mean?" Souji opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open and Dojima walked in, staggering just slightly before falling onto the couch. Nanako went to him immediately nearly knocking over her chair in the process.

"Dad!" She exclaimed embracing the haggard looking man her tiny fists clenching fistfuls of his crisp gun metal gray shirt. Souji cleaned up thankful for the diversion before following his cousin and starting up the steps.

"Souji?" His uncle called from the couch. Souji turned back around and slipped on a tired smile which only emphasized the dark circles beneath his eyes. The look on Dojima's face mirrored his own, only the shadow beneath his eyes were darker and the smile, albeit tired, was grateful, completely and totally truthful. "Thanks." The words, for watching my daughter were left unsaid.

"You're welcome." He replied letting a yawn escape his lips before he continued to trudge back upstairs, hoping to fill the last three hours of his morning in a beautiful, dreamless, slumber.

* * *

_**A/N: **_Hello hello, are you mad? I'm back with this lovely chapter. It's one of the only breather chapters I have planned out for this little (ha) story. So take a deep breath because chapter 4? Yeah that'll be up real soon.


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